


Whiskey

by CrimsonScreech



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, M/M, More like a drabble, Non-Alpha Derek, Set in 3rd Season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonScreech/pseuds/CrimsonScreech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has lost his Alpha status to save his sister and doesnt know if being a beta is enough to keep Stiles interested anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey

His heart thunders against hist chest, his stomach in a pool by his feet. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he broke his grandmother’s lamp when he was just a pup.

Stiles doesn’t know. Not yet but he needs to.

"Are… are we still…?" Derek cant find the words, his skin burning when Stiles glances up at him, pausing from his reading.

"Still what big guy?"

"I’m not… an Alpha anymore. I gave it up so Cora would get better."

Stiles cocks his head and sets the book aside, his demeanor changing in an instant as he stands toe to toe with him, curious but solemn, “Show me your eyes.”

An icy blue fills his vision. He waits for it. For Stiles to laugh, make a joke, tell him its over now that he isn’t as strong, isn’t as worthy to be his mate when he isn’t an Alpha anymore.

Instead, Stiles pulls him in by the collar of his shirt, his index finger hooking the soft cotton. Stiles lips find the apple of his cheek, soft, gentleman-like.

He isn’t the great love Paige was.

Not the seduction of Kate.

Nor is he the damsel to be saved as he used to think Jennifer was.

He couldnt save Stiles anymore than he could save himself. 

Stiles is there and gone and ever present everywhere and nowhere. Loud,earth quaking, bone chilling silence running through Derek’s brain.

He doesnt need you, Derek’s mind hisses.

"I know who you are Scoobie Doo." Stiles teases, his honey eyes as warm as mid-summer night. Derek sinks into his space, feeling weaker than ever yet relieved. Stiles runs a hand through his hair and the dog reference is all forgotten as his roaming hand massages the back of his neck. He’s putty in Stiles’ hand, "I don’t care about your status, you’re still a fail wolf but that’s why you have me."

Stiles never needed him in any way other than a drowning man needs strength or a lost soul needs a home. He’s his equal. They’re a team. Friends. Lovers. Companions. Mates.

"You still want me?" Derek hesitates. He cant do what he used to anymore. He’s no leader. Here he’s always been the wolf nipping at Stiles heels, always ready to catch him when he falls.

Stiles never falls.

Stiles carries him as if he weighs nothing in his long, pale hands.

"All day, every day, pooch." Stiles counters will every sense of self-assurance a man could possess. His palms feel cool against his scalp, his scent overwhelming and more of a stench. Derek could drink it down like whiskey. Stiles always makes him forget where he’s been, what’s waiting for him. His belly fills with liquid fire when Stiles wordless asks him for permission. Derek musters a nod, too strong, too obvious. Surely, Stiles’ lips finds Derek’s, bringing the werewolf to very his knees.

He’s just a man when Stiles looks at him. Just a man with blood on his hands, a finger at his back and the weight of the world on his shoulders. But Stiles touches him like he wants, like he needs to be touched, how he craves when any woman gives him the time of day.

Stiles carries him into bed for what feels like the first time in years and keeps him there while in the early afternoon they watch reruns on Boomerang and eat junk food, replacing constant fear and paranoia with leisure and pleasure.

He gave Stiles everything. His sins, his truths even his only defense, his body, letting Stiles tie him down and ride him by the light of the moon into completion, until sweat coated him in a thin layer and all his sounds echoed off the walls.

Betrayal, loneliness, abandonment is always on the forefront of his mind but Stiles persists, lingering like the burn down the back of his throat he just cant get enough of.

Stiles pulls back, pupils blown in lust and lips swollen, whispering with a hint of a growl in his voice, “Bet I can still make you howl, wolf-boy.”

Mischief flickers in Stiles gaze as he cocks a brow at Derek and reaches for the fly of his jeans. Derek shuttered as his skin prickled and his blood turned to flames.


End file.
